


Day 4: Wet Dream

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [5]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Paul, Dom Paul, Dream Sex, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month, Magical Realism, Outdoor Sex, Pillow Princess Paul, Rimming, Service Top John, Shameless Smut, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: Upon falling asleep in the studio during the recording of Sgt Pepper, John has a wet dream about Paul.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 14
Kudos: 82





	Day 4: Wet Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 and still on time. I was a bit strapped for time today, as I was also celebrating my 24th birthday early (it's tomorrow! the 5th!), but I'm still happy with how this turned out. This prompt also includes a request I got on Tumblr from an anon who asked for a fic of fic set in 1967 where John fucks Paul in Strawberry Fields. I hope you enjoy this, anon!

February, 1967  
John found himself standing before the gates of Strawberry Fields and felt as if he was floating. He could not feel the press of the ground against the soles of his feet, and he felt as if his body was swaying, moving up and down like a ship on the sea. Everything felt out of focus; the corners of his vision were blurry and the colours did not so much fade, as drain out of where they were supposed to be contained, like paint being washed away by rain, making his entire surroundings feel as if he had stepped into a Dali painting. 

Was he high? What had he smoked? 

John wasn’t sure what he was doing in front of the floral red gates. Not only had he moved away from Liverpool years ago, but even when he had been living at Mendips, he had barely used them, preferring to climb the stone wall at the back of the garden to go into the woods directly.

But here he was now, pushing his hand against the cool metal, and watching as it opened with a clang. The metal groaned as it was forced to move, uncomfortable and high pitched, and soon John felt himself floating into the grounds. Ahead he could see the orphanage, a tall gothic-esque building, and he could even see the children, young girls in black and white uniforms, playing their little games. They were far away, yet their voices and laughter carried across the grass field and into John’s ear.

Floating further, John tried to reach the ground with his feet, and noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes. His bare feet finally touched the wet grass, and moving further, he found himself heading into the woods. He had spent hours there as a kid, away from others, in his own little world, usually drawing or writing in a notebook. 

Leaves crackled under his weight and grass tickled the underside of his foot, while dirt pushed itself up between his toes. A soft warm breeze blew over his face and brushed through his hair. His hands and fingers caressed the whispering leaves on the trees and the grumbling bark, and he pushed on. The golden light of the sun flickered, trying to make it through the thick cover of flora. The effect created was disorientating, and John wondered if this was how Alice had felt as she had fallen down the rabbit hole. 

Suddenly the world pressed tighter around him. A voice sounded, melodic and low, breathy yet sweet and dripping like honey. It sounded somewhere between a hum and moan. John knew that voice. Knew it better than anyone else in the world. 

_ Paul… _

He came by a tree and found the source. It was indeed Paul, sitting under a tree. But it wasn’t the Paul he had expected. This wasn’t the fifteen-year-old boy he used to take here, when they had both been teens, young and inexperienced, nervous and unsure, yet always acting more cocky than they felt in the hopes to impress the other. This wasn’t the baby-faced teenage boy whose body John’s hands had first explored all those years ago. 

No. This was a different Paul. Not the one he associated so strongly with this place that seemed so out of touch with time, but  _ his  _ Paul. The one from  _ his _ time, sitting here under the tree, a pink flower in his hair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His pretty head was resting against the mossy trunk, and he was humming along to a song in his head. He looked as gorgeous as he always did, his droopy eyes closed, reminding John of when he would listen to what they had just recorded in the studio, momentarily away from earth and on a plane of his own. His lips plump were ruby red like cherries and decorated by his equally droopy moustache. His skin glimmered white as the sun played on it, and his body seemed impossibly skinny even in the many layers of colourful clothing. His hands, small, slim and delicate lay in his lap, and John swallowed thickly as he realised Paul was touching himself. 

When John came closer, Paul’s eyes opened. 

_ “John…” _ he moaned and John’s body shuddered. Paul’s gaze was dark, filled with lazy lust and desire, and was aimed directly at him. The hand in his lap tightened and a low groan escaped Paul’s throat, one that John matched with a breathy curse of his own.

This wasn’t the inexperienced young boy who had nervously allowed John to touch him one afternoon while he was skipping school.  _ This  _ Paul had no need to be nervous or unsure, and it was clear he knew exactly what he wanted. 

"Come," he said, and John obeyed. His legs carried him closer, his eyes roaming over Paul's body before coming to rest on his squeezing hand. Kneeling besides him, John reached out and covered Paul’s hand with his own. 

A shiver went through him at the contact, and keeping his gaze fixed on his hand, he followed the movements of Paul’s hand. Their fingers entwined and Paul let out a soft moan as John’s fingertips brushed over his bulge. 

“Please me,” the man said, voice breathy and soft, almost an airy whisper, his hand falling away, slipping from underneath John’s as smoothly as if it had turned to water. John sighed as his hand pressed against his lover’s crotch, feeling the shape of Paul’s cock even through the material of his slacks. 

_ Please me _ , Paul had said and John wanted to do nothing more. 

“Undress me”, was Paul’s next command, and before John had been able to fully register the words that seemed to flow out of Paul’s lips like silk and wrap around his heart, he was moving. 

His hand drifted from Paul’s crotch, down his legs and to his feet. He gently undid Paul’s yellow and red shoes, slipping them off his feet and placing them neatly on the grass next to them, before moving to take off his socks. His black jacket came off next, dematerialising in thin air as John pushed it off his shoulders, fading like smoke in his hands. One by one, John removed the garments covering Paul’s skin to expose more and more of his body to the world, until his hands finally dipped down to undo Paul’s black trousers and pull down his underwear, leaving Paul completely naked in the grass. 

The world around them had grown quiet, and John couldn’t hear a single bird or even the ruffling of the leaves as he made his way back up, kissing Paul’s naked skin, from his feet over his legs to his hips. The hair on his legs tickled John’s face, and when he reached Paul’s crotch, he deliberately moved past it, kissing his way up Paul’s stomach, his chest, his collarbone, his neck, and his jaw, where Paul’s hands found his face, cradling his cheeks and angling his head up for a kiss. 

“Serve me,” Paul repeated as he kissed him, his tongue tasting like roses, tea and honey as it curled around John’s, and John moaned at the request, feeling how his cock, suddenly hard, pressed against his slacks. 

“Serve me,” Paul repeated. John’s skin tingled at the prospect, his throat drying even as his mouth began to water. 

It took a moment for him to register the command, but when he did, he obediently moved his way back down, his tongue eagerly trailing over his lover’s skin, until he finally reached the dark curled around the base of Paul’s cock. Glancing up, he held his gaze as he opened his mouth and took Paul in. 

“Slowly,” Paul warned, and John did as requested, sliding his lips down the shaft of Paul’s cock steadily. He moved down gradually, bit by bit, feeling the head slide over his tongue and into his throat, until his nose was buried deep within the dark curls, Paul’s musky scent filling his nostrils with each inhale. He held still, watching Paul closely as he tried not to gag, his hands travelling over Paul’s thighs, his hips, his sides, as the man himself laid motionless on the grass. He was breathing softly as he enjoyed the sensation of John’s mouth around his cock, his eyes closed and his limp body appearing almost decadent as Paul simply bathed in the sensations John was giving him. 

“John…” Paul moaned, a smile on his lips, and his hands came up to tangle themselves into John’s hair as John began to pull back, moving slowly, letting his lips drag over the sensitive skin before sliding back down, earning himself a low moan of satisfaction. Once more he held still, before retreating, but just when he had been about to sink back down, Paul pulled at his hair, jerking him impatiently off his cock, before forcing his head lower as he spread his thighs. He didn’t have to speak for John to figure out what he wanted. 

“Oh God...” Paul moaned as John lowered his mouth to his hole, kissing him there and flattening his tongue against him as Paul’s body shuddered under him. “More.”

John immediately obeyed, feeling almost as if he had no choice but to do as Paul told. He closed his eyes and licked a circle around the rim, feeling it flutter against him, already eager for him to breach it. When John felt Paul pull at his hair, he complied, pushing out his tongue and wiggling it right at the little hole, feeling how Paul easily gave way for him, welcoming him in with a low satisfied growl. 

“Oh  _ Christ. _ That’s it, love...” he said, almost in a whisper and John moaned in response as he pressed in, his cock twitching at the praise. He ate Paul out slowly, with long and deliberate licks, lapping at the rim to get him wet and needy, before he pressed his tongue inside, twisting and curling it as much as he could while Paul shuddered against him. 

Bit by bit, he felt Paul open up more and more, allowing him to press in deeper and deeper, reaching further than he had ever done, as Paul’s fingers tugged at his hair, doing nothing but simply letting John work. 

Once he was loose enough, he ordered John back up, pulling him in for a kiss as his hands dipped down to undo John’s trousers. Slipping his hand into the waistband of his underwear, his fingers grasped for his cock, and John let out a groan as he was pulled free. 

“Fuck me,” Paul said simply and John moaned as he felt Paul guide his erection to his entrance, pressing the head against his wettened hole. Not needing any more instruction than that, John pushed in, groaning at the way Paul opened for him, practically sucking him in. 

“God… Macca…” he moaned, and Paul nodded as he once again took John’s head in his hands and guided him to his mouth for another kiss, moaning against his lips as John held still inside of him. 

“Fuck me,” Paul repeated as the kiss broke and John nodded, doing as requested. Holding Paul’s gaze, he began to move, slowly at first to give him time to adjust, watching as Paul’s head fell back against the trunk of the tree with a breathy gasp. 

“Fuck me,” he urged him again, clenching around him, and John picked up the pace, pushing into Paul over and over again. He curled himself over Paul, as he grabbed one of Paul’s thighs with his arms, holding it up for a better angle as his lover simply laid back and let him, gasping and moaning and urging him on. 

_ “Harder,”  _ Paul groaned, and John once more complied, quickening his thrusts and watching in awe as Paul remained motionless under him, his jaw slack as he let out tiny little gasps with each of John’s thrusts. 

The flower, tucked in his hair, unfurled and grew into two, then three, then four, then many more, spreading through Paul’s hair and onto the bark of the tree, as John pushed in and out of him, over and over again, moaning and groaning at the pleasure that spread through both their bodies. He was only able to watch as the flowers curled around the whole of the trunk, blending with the moss. Around him, little plants began to sprout as the pleasure built, quickly covering the ground, before little red berries began to grow. 

“Harder,” Paul repeated once more, and John moaned in frustration as he pushed in harder and deeper, feeling how Paul’s limbs began to curl around him, holding him closer as his lips found his earlobe, his moustache tickling his skin. “Harder.  _ Harder, _ John. I need you to  _ fuck me harder.” _

John awoke before he could. 

Blinking his eyes open, for a moment John didn’t know where he was. The room around him was dim, and he could hear some shuffling somewhere to his left. He was sitting, his head resting on something hard and uncomfortable, and raising his head he realised he was in the studio. He was sitting at a table, a cold cup to tea and a used ashtray a few inches from where he had been lying. 

“You fell asleep,” a voice said and turning his head, John saw Paul not far away from him, scribbling something by the piano. Grumbling something inaudible, he shook himself awake, groaning as he felt how stiff his body was. Removing his little round spectacles, he briefly rubbed the sleep from his eyes before putting them back on his nose. 

“Christ…” 

“You were moaning. Had a nice dream?” Paul asked, glancing up at him with a knowing smirk and John shrugged, his mind still slow from his unintentional nap. 

“I suppose.” 

“Want me to finish it off for you?” Paul asked and John frowned, unsure what the other man was referring to. When Paul nodded at his crotch, and John looked down to see he was hard, he flushed. 

“Yeah… Yeah, why not?” he said and smiled as Paul beckoned him over, glancing up at the control room and waving his hand once to tell the people there to leave them, directing the whole world with only a wave of a hand. 

John’s cock twitched in anticipation. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Chut, for reading this through even though you already fell asleep four times during it. I hope you're sleeping well and I'm going to get you a little gift to make it up to you! 
> 
> Tomorrow's prompt is body worship. It's also my birthday then, so I won't have much time, but I've already did some work on it, so it should be done on time! Thanks again, everyone, for the support! You're amazing.


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